This book has one of the most misleading (and worst) titles, and it is one of the best books ever written in the field of psychology. It's like how they named Greenland, a desolate hunk of ice (sorry if you're from Greenland) almost wholly within the Arctic Circle, GREEN-land; and Iceland, a gorgeous, temperate, GREEN country, wholly outside the Arctic Circle, ICE-land. There are many theories as to how this misnomer occurred, but my favorite is that Erik The Red, a hearty Viking (undoubtedly with a good sense of humor) wanted to attract settlers to his colony and so named it something appealing. Well, I don't know why Eric Berne, the famous psychologist and best-selling author, named this book "What Do You Say After You Say Hello," but for all practical purposes he named it the book-ish equivalent of Iceland (when it is indeed Greenland). The title sounds like a dating guide.
Are you interested in spirituality? You're not going to find it here. Do you want a quick fix for your problems? (I do. If you know of any, please email me. :) ) You're not going to find it here. In this book, what you get is extraordinarily clear-headed thinking about how we think (or don't). The book is based on the psychological school of Transactional Analysis (the notion that all people have three distinct parts to their personality--despite their age--Parent, Adult, and Child, and that transactions between people are best served by communicating on the same level, Parent to Parent, Adult to Adult, and Child to Child. A brief example would be if somebody was goofing around (coming from the Child part of their personality) and you shot them down (from the Parent part of your personality), saying something like, 'You're so immature!' That would be a "mixed" transaction--and problematic.)
But even more important than mixed transactions, Berne goes into great depth on how almost always our lives follow "scripts" (ways of thinking about our lives ingrained in us at an early age from our parents and other significant figures) and that these scripts are often counter-productive and even at times tragic. It's almost creepy thinking that what you absorbed from your parents (and it being long forgotten into adulthood) could be determining your current life, but Berne provides convincing proof--and most importantly a way out.
He writes: "Although men are not laboratory animals, they often behave as though they are. Sometimes they are put in cages and treated like rats, manipulated and sacrificed at the will of their masters. But many times the cage has an open door, and a man has only to walk out if he wishes. If he does not, it is usually his script which keeps him there. That is familiar and reassuring, and after looking out at the great world of freedom with all its joys and dangers, he turns back to the cage with its buttons and levers, knowing that if he keeps busy pushing them, and pushes the right one at the right time, he will be assured of food, drink, and an occasional thrill. But always, such a caged person hopes or fears that some force greater than himself, the Great Experimenter or the Great Computer, will change or end it all."
Subtle forces we are unaware of drive us, and the answer to counteracting that unawareness is awareness. And the best chance (Berne points out that often counseling is needed in some cases) of obtaining that awareness is functioning mostly from our Adult. Not exclusively of course. There are benefits to all three parts of our personality and appropriate times for their expression. It's just when (for example) a grown man or woman is consistently acting, say, from their Child, that life is unnecessarily counterproductive.
So it sounds like common sense, right? No need to read the book. Don't cheat yourself. Most psychology books are pretty good or at least have a few good thoughts and concepts you can glean from them. This book is great. This book (and the Transactional Analysis it expounds on) could improve your life immensely.
Me personally I'm getting older (57) and I'm single so the following passage really applies to me (and to women too):
"The cure for the scriptless aged is permission, but they seldom use it. There are thousands of older men living in small rooms in every large city, each of them wishing there was someone to cook for him, talk to him, and listen to him. At the same time, there are thousands of older women living under the same circumstances, wishing they had someone to cook for, talk to, and listen to. Even if the twain do happen to meet, they rarely take advantage of it, each preferring to remain in his or her familiar drab surroundings hunched over a glass or a TV set, or sitting with folded hands, waiting for a riskless, sinless death. Those were mother's directives when they were little, and these are the directives they are following seventy or eighty years later. They never took chances before, beyond a small bet at the racetrack or the stadium, so why should they jeopardize everything now? The script has vanished by its own fulfillment, but the old slogan lingers on, and when death comes they will greet him gladly. And on the front of the tombstone whey will carve: 'Gone to rest with his forebears,' and on the back it will say: 'I lived a good life, and never took any chances.'
"They say that in the next century, children will be grown in bottles, according to specifications laid down by the state and the parents, and there they will be genetically programed. But everybody is already raised in a bottle according to specifications laid down by the state and his parents, and there he is script-programed. Script-programing is easier to shake off than genetic programing, but few people exercise the privilege. For the ones who do, there can be a more inspiring tombstone. Nearly all pious epitaphs, translated into Martian (script based thinking), come out 'Raised in a bottle, and stayed there, too.' And so they stand, row after row of crosses and other symbols in the graveyard, all with the same motto. Only here and there is a surprise: 'Raised in a bottle--but I jumped out.' Many people refuse to do that, even when there is no cork."